Friday, June 11, 2010

And the Worm Turns

Mmmmmmm......Gummy worms.....

I had a long day today.  I'm tired.  And although this incident has nothing to do with me being tired, or my day being long, I feel this is worth mentioning so you all are in the loop, or whatever.   Sure, as Regan says in the comments section of a previous post, I add links to my own posts.  But that's not for you constant readers who follow my every move like the stalkers that you are.  It's for the future stalkers who want to know not only what I'm up to now, but who also take the time to stalkishly read about what I was up to before.

And this is one of those times when it's good to know the backstory.  

I went to one of my jobs today, and was planning on spending a couple of hours there, maybe three.  By the time it was over I had been working a little longer than 7 hours, not stopping for lunch, and I hadn't even brought anything to drink.  After running the few other errands I had in town, I stopped and got some beer as a reward.   I took it easy coming home, driving the 5 miles straight up from the sea, and enjoying the ever-cooler air as I climbed.  I passed Gary and Janice's house, saw Gary out front, and waved.  Coupled with the knowledge that I would very soon be sitting on my porch, all of this added up to a very Rockwellian-feeling evening.

I pulled up to the gate, undid the chain, then pushed the one side open and pulled the other side open (as you do when you live on uneven terrain), checked the mailbox (empty) and then walked back around the front of the truck to get back in and drive it through.  My hand made it to the door handle, and then I stopped.  No... it couldn't be.  But I had to check.  So I turned around, and there between the pineapple the truck was a little pig.  And I mean little.  He maybe weighed 20 lbs, and stood about 7" tall.  So now that I've confirmed that there's a baby pig in the yard, my first thought is "Where's the momma?"  I look around, and there's not another pig in sight.  So I start to wrangle they little guy out through the gate, and he has no fear of me.  None at all.

At this time, I keep looking around for the hidden cameras or something, wondering if this is some sort of prank.  I see Kaleo come out of the house.

"Is this your pig?" I ask, totally joking.

Turns out, they found it at the gate earlier that day, right around noon, and had sort of semi-adopted it.  Somehow that, plus the pig's seemingly domesticated behavior and it's rotund undercarriage, triggered a memory.  When I told you before about the Crazy Goat Lady's animals that Dagny had agitated, I negelcted to mention her pot-bellied pig she had recently acquired.

It seemed to me that God, the Fates, Karma, quantum physics, Lrrr from Omicron Persei 8, or whatever higher power you choose to believe in was balancing out the universe today.

I told Kaleo I'd take the pig down to Pua Kea's place and see if it was hers.

Now, to get down to Pua Kea's, I've got to pass three other houses, and given that these are all acerages, it's about a quarter of a mile to her place.  So that's a quarter of a mile that I'm hoping to lead a pig down a road without a leash or a collar or food. 

Of course, I didn't realize that this would be a problem until I was halfway there.  The pig was really cooperative at first. We just trotted along, like a boy and his dog, and everything was fine.....right up until it wasn't.  First of all, a FedEx truck came up the hill.  So I guided the little guy off of the road, and held his stinky self while the truck rattled by.  Little did I know that this would be interpreted as something sexual.

The thought process (plus the thoughts you don't realize you're having while walking) went as follows:
Right foot forward
Left foot forward
Did that pig just bump into me?
Right foot forward
Is he blind or something? he just did it again!
Left foot forward
Right foot forward
WHAT? Is he grabbing on?!?
Left leg shake, left leg forward.
Right leg forward
NO, you stupid pig!
Right leg hop, left leg shake and kick back, left leg forward

For about 150 yards this stupid pig tried to mount my left leg.  As I was half skipping, half trying to kick backwards down the road, the image popped into my mind of  a Norman Rockwell painting of a boy running down a road as a pig tried to molest his leg.  Certainly not the evening I'd been planning on.

Finally the pig gave up.  Not because it had lost any desire, but because it's first desire (lust) had been given up in place for another desire, namely gluttony.  We were passing at that moment Gary and Janice's macadamia nut orchard (for whatever stupid reason, my spell check doesn't like the word macadamia.....stupid spell check).  My erstwhile molester turned and crossed the boundary of ti plants ("ti" = 2 scrabble pts) into the orchard.

At this point I had a serious decision to make: do I grab the pig and direct him further down the road, or do I let him go upon his chosen course and let Bella and Leo (Gary and Janice's dogs and protectors of the mac nut orchard) tear him to bits?  My right leg was saying, "You can't let him die!" but my left leg was saying, "That monster should burn in Hell!" and my stomach was saying, very quietly, "Mmmmm....bacon...." but Vishnu or Mola Ram or whoever or whatever it is won out in the quest for balance, and I went through the ti plants and pulled the pig back out onto the road.

Now I don't know how many of you have had the chance to pick up a pig, but this was my first opportunity, and I must say, they have a great defense system.  No, he didn't pee or poop on me (although I have no doubt that was only a few items farther down his list). What he did was squeal.  But not the cute little piglet squeal you'd think it'd be, but rather an incredibly loud, incredibly grating, incredibly horrible noise that emotes "HELP!  IT'S GOT ME! I'LL NEVER ESCAPE! THE END IS NEAR! I'M COMING, ELIZABETH! DEATH IS UPON ME AND IT'S A HORRIBLE HORRIBLE TERRIBLE HIDEOUS THING AND THERE'S NO WAY OUT AND OH LORD NO NO NONONONOONONONONNNOOOOOOO!" But I carried him nonetheless out to the road and a little further down.

We finally made it to CGL's driveway entrance, and once again the pig was not cooperative.  It wanted to continue down the road. So I picked it up again, and it screamed bloody murder again, and that awakened something in the undergrowth next to the road.  Branches started snapping.  Grasses started moving.  I set the pig down.  He stopped screaming.  We stared into the scrub.  We both took two steps back.  There then was some loud grunting and milling around, followed by a sort of low growl that to me quite like irritation bordering on anger.  There was a very large wild pig in there.  And then it got very quiet.

As I'm sure you all can guess, it was at this moment that I became very very angry at myself for not bringing my potato rake to what was about to grow into a man vs. giant pig vs. little pig fight that would certainly end in if not death then at least some bruises and hurt feelings.  How stupid could I be?  I've really just got to start taking it everywhere I go.  When I first tried that, I kept being refused access to stores and restaurants and the like, under the legal argument that since my potato rake had no shoes, and no shirt, it would receive no service.  And since I'm not quite to the point of dressing my potato rake up in it's Sunday best for a trip to Cost-U-Less, I stopped carrying it around with me.

Thus potato rakeless, I decided upon a tactical retreat down CGL's driveway, and I'd let the little pig do whatever he wanted.  Pigs are reportedly intelligent creatures, and this one showed his wisdom by following me and restraining his attraction to my leg in fears that I would throw him into the depths of the scrub brush at the big angry pig, which I would have without a second thought.

We proceeded down the drive and as the house came into sight I started having new concerns about booby-traps, poisoned darts, and giant boulders rolling down behind me.  So I started hollering a bit, causing a bit of noise, and trying to look as obvious and nonthreatening as possible.  Eventually Scooter took notice of my presence and started barking, at which point Pua Kea came out of the house, surprisingly not carrying a shotgun, and walked over with a very clear "what the hell does this guy want?" look on her face.

"Have you lost a pig?" I asked.

"Where did you find him? He's been gone for days!"

I told her that I'd found him in our pineapples (which was kinda true, that was where I found him, but K&K had actually found him outside of the gate, trying to push through).  She expressed concern for the pineapples, but I told her no harm was done, and she was quite thankful.  Quite in contrast to our previous meeting, she was all sunshine and full of complete neighborly good cheer.  I believe she's forgotten my name, so she was constantly referring to me as Darling. "Oh Darling, it was so kind of you to take the time to bring him all the way back here," and "You have no idea what a nuisance this pig can be, Darling," and the like.  I told her it was the least I could do, insomuch as it made us square vis-a-vis animal trespasses.  At that she emphatically apologized for her behavior during that previous encounter, again explaining that she'd had a really bad couple of days, and added that she had also been dealing with the early stages of what would prove to be a whopper of a migraine, and that she had been very displeased with Luis's lack of help in the matter, and all of that had culminated in her angry demeanor, and yet that was no excuse to go around yelling at people.

In short, she found her meds.

As I left, she told me of the secret signal I should use when coming down the driveway to avoid painful death or dismemberment should the need arise for me to visit once again unannounced.  Heading back up the drive, both Scooter and the pig (named "Hau'oli", meaning Happy) both followed me up the path, as if saying "We're with you, dude!"  Pua Kea called Scooter back home though, and after several attempts at calling Hau'oli, eventually walked after him, picked him up, and carried him screaming all the way home.

So the universe is balanced, Dagny's trespasses are forgiven, and I can once again universally say with a clear conscience that older ladies, gas station people, and grocery store people like me.  Well, not countimg that grumpy lady at the bank, but I don't think she likes anyone.

On the stroll home, I stopped in and said hello to Gary, who was out picking up mac nuts and walking the dogs.

"Was that you I saw walking down the road with a pig just now?" he asked, a little incredulously.

I told him the story, and he informed me that CGL had been having a lot of problems containing her animals lately.  Not only were Scooter and Hau'oli taking twice-daily walks around the neighborhood for the last three days, but also her donkey has been wandering across the road to spend some quality time with another neighbor's cows.  I guess it's just payback for her having such a fit about Dagny venturing onto her parcel of land.

Moral of the story?

ALWAYS bring your potato rake (proper attire included), no matter the occasion.


  1. jeez, can't wait to come back there to visit. I missed so much the 1st round. Still waiting for the tea yurt to be installed. Cameretta...

  2. UPDATE: At this very moment, Gary is walking Hau'oli down to CGL's place.

    I hope she doesn't shoot either of them. :)

  3. So what's the secret signal? Is it going to be revealed in the next Cameron super-post? Ultra-Blog?

  4. And so the "length of post" mocking begins.... :)

    The "secret signal" is a loudly yelled "Hoooo-EEEE!" if any of you find yourself stumbling into CGL's place late some night after too many quart jars of swipe.

  5. Maybe more places would allow the carrying of a rake if you had a sort of back holster for it, similar to the baby bounty hunter in Raising Arizona. People and establishments would feel safer if you came in with your rake holstered rather than just walking around wielding a rake like a savage.

  6. Also, this pig post is freakin hilarious. The phrase: erstwhile molester made me laugh out loud. And now you can claim older ladies, gas station people, grocery store people and pigs like you.

  7. Interesting thoughts indeed, K. Shall I call you K? Or perhaps it's short for Kay (as in a Homer J. Simpson sort of thing)? Or perhaps it's something more interesting and hidden, like Potassium? Ah, I suppose it does not matter.

    So, K-Rich, interesting thoughts indeed. While I've been thinking of some ideas for a holster type thing (you thinking of Raising Arizona, where as I was thinking Evil Dead 2, but it really amounts to the same thing). The trouble is the handle is quite long, and so I've put the holster idea aside for now. What I've moved on to no is more of a sling type of approach. A bit of rope tied at one end low on the handle and at the other end near the head of the rake, with just enough slack to fit my body through. It works ok. I really need a quick release clip, as well as a cinch buckle to tighten it up, because it has a tendency to want to swing lower where it doesn't look as cool, and less importantly, places the head of the rake in a position that if I turn my head too quickly, I could lose an eye. Of course I could always work around the latter by always wearing really cool looking glasses or something. Speaking of cool looking, the rope doesn't cut it. Given the whole point is to avoid having to dress up the rake, it has to look professional, and at this point I still look like a guy with a rake hanging on his back. So I'm considering a more decorative strap in place of the rope. Perhaps something in decorated leather, like the old-timey gun belts, and I could have something witty stamped into the front, like "Rake-ishly Handsome" or "Tined to Kill" or "Rake White Shark" or something. I'm still ironing out the details. But I'm glad we're on the same page, K-Rich, I really am.

    And thanks for the praise. "Erstwhile molester" is indeed an underused turn of phrase, but I suppose in thinking about it, that's a good thing. :)

  8. "She has a dog that I hear howling the most heartbreaking howl at least 4 times a week." I suppose we now know the cause of that heartbreaking howl, don't we?

    Cameron, that was the funniest story yet. wow.

    Couldn't you do a "sawed off" potato rake?

  9. Yep, it's clear that he's "singing" the blues...

    I'm glad you enjoyed it. :) I've been reading a lot more lately, and I think it's somehow causing me to write more as well. I'm sure I'll get back to the short posts again sometime though.

    I've though about sawing off part of the handle, but I've decided that the real appeal is the reach (and the ability to lean on it when I'm tired), so the handle must stay.